Clashing Blues and Browns
by xxHeadInTheStarsxx
Summary: Because he accidentally said the wrong thing, they'll never be together again. slight ChadSonny. one-shot


**A/N: Well here's your usual Sonny/Chad one-shot. This is BY FAR the most pointless piece of writing I've ever written in my whole entire life. It has no meaning. I was just sad and in a bad mood today that I had to write a sad-ish story. Since it was Father's Day I had to add something like that. Sorry it's pretty suckish. Oh and please don't ask me why I barely mention Chad and Sonny's names here. I'll tell you right now: I didn't feel like it. And it's in present tense--which I am so not used to sorry (again) if the tenses get mixed up. Well anyways, here you go. **

_Clashing Blues and Browns_

a.

Grasping onto his affection, breathing against his skin; he's luring her, hypnotizing her in different ways. It is like she is a thin piece string and he is tugging on it, making it **all** his. He is luring her. But here's the thing: she actually **wants** to be lured. She wants to crawl into his arms every night with the same satisfying feeling that he's all hers, that he loves her and only her. She desperately wants him to love her more than anything else in the world. Because that was what she wants. But she never gets what she wants.

She still steps into his arms, allowing him to do whatever he wishes, whatever would please him. If that will make him happy then that is what she'll do. Please him. Pleasure him. Show him that she was good enough and willing enough to be his one and only. She doesn't care about the heartbreaks that would obviously come into their relationship, she doesn't care that he's an arrogant jerk who has a heart of ice, she just **doesn't care**. She just wants to make him happy.

"I love you." She whispers into his ear. He smiles down at her. His eyes stop sparkling, and she could she through his transparent smile. It wasn't a real smile. It was forced. His smile is almost guilty, apologetic. As if he doesn't want to hurt her feelings. Because he doesn't love her. He doesn't know if he could even learn to love her. "I love you." She says again, her voice louder. She sounds so needy, so desperate. Her eyes look longing, as if she is waiting for him to say it back. He **had** to feel guilty.

"Shhh," he coos into her ear gently, trying to wipe those false feelings away from her head. He wants to believe that she doesn't **actually** love him. She could just be hallucinating, drunk, sex high, or whatever. Who could possibly fall in love with a guy like him? He was mean, he was rude, he was heartless. Yet underneath all of that, she still says that she loves him—and it's making him feel guilty.

He hates the guilt. Oh, how he hates the guilt. He just wants it to go away. He can't stand the pang that tore his insides out. He was so used to feeling high and mighty all time, this new feeling is unbearable. Guilt can't be properly expressed in his brain, it just can't. What is he supposed to say anyways? _I love you too? _Not in this lifetime! But he doesn't want to hurt her as well. Sure, she may be nothing to him, but he cares for her. He actually cares for her. Scratch that—she's **everything** to him. From the sun to the moon to the stars. She's his universe. He just doesn't want to admit it: she's his everything.

But he still doesn't love her.

"Just go back to sleep." He orders softly into her ear. She gives him a devastated look and his whole world crashes. She chokes back a sob and turns the other way, facing the opposite direction as him. She hugs the blankets that surrounds them, engulfing herself into them. She closes her eyes as tears begin to brim around the edges. She won't cry. She can't. She can't blame him for answering her like that. She knows that he doesn't return the feelings.

But that doesn't stop her from trying.

He stares at her naked back and his eyes travel up to her cascading hair. She's even beautiful from the back…He sighs and wraps his arms around her cold yet soft body. He knows that she doesn't want to look at him. The sight of him depresses her. The fact that he doesn't return the feelings makes it even worse. He wonders why she just couldn't take that all he wants to do was to make her feel happy as well, safe and secure with him. Not love.

She thinks that he's just using her. He doesn't love her. He acts like he doesn't even **like **her. He picks a pointless fight with her everyday, making sure that he will win. He scams her into doing things that she'll regret. But she never would have thought that "fine" "fine" and "good" "good" could mean so much. Especially: "so are we good?" "oh, we're so good." But that means the most. Because right after that, he would pull her into a separate room and attack her with kisses. Kisses that looks so love-filled, so romantic, and passionate.

But did those words **mean** anything? Were they code? Surely, they couldn't be just some lame insult that these two repeat every single day. Each word has a purpose, a secret meaning to it. _Fine_: you're a jerk. _Fine_: you're a diva. _Good_: well I'm still playing this game because I don't want to lose to a jerk like you, and I love you. _Good_: well I'm still playing this game because I don't want to lose to a diva like you, and it's so cute to see you mad. _So are we good_: stop messing with my head! I'm done! Compromise! _Oh, we're so good_: good, now come on, I need you.

That was really what their saying. Within each one-worded comeback was a message. A message that **they **couldn't even figure out. They thought they were just words, words that were at the top of their head and they had to blurt it out. Meaningless words.

She's dead sure that he's just using her. All he wants with her is **one thing**. And that was it. He didn't ask her for anything else. He doesn't even seem that he wants anything else from her. Just that. And that was all they would do for hours and hours. Screaming and sweating, moaning and groaning. It starts out with them satisfied but always ends with her ruining it.

_I love you._

She would always say that when their done. That's what they were doing anyways, right? Making **love.** It was something that they all say when they're done. But what she didn't realize that those three words could easily destroy a perfectly good night.

She's sad. He's guilty. And the evening is officially marred.

"Are you okay?" he whispers into her ear, concern mixing with his tone. He's concerned, okay, but it's not like he should ask such stupid questions. Of course she's **not **okay. He could finally see that when she doesn't answer him. Instead she squirms slightly underneath his touch, as if she's touching the deadliest poison. She wants to get away from him; she wants to be free out of his temptation.

At first it was just all fun and games. He simply entices her, only playfully. What he didn't know was that that one simple gesture caused him to rip out her remaining innocence. But she knows that. She thought of it as an act, a game. Because that was what they were playing before, right? Games.

Actually, she was the one who tried to stop. She hates how he always gets what he wants. She hates how she always falls for his stupid trap every single time. He is like a bad habit, a lesson never learned. And he enjoys watching her misery as she allows him to screw her no matter how much she detests it. But he found himself enjoying it even more when seeing her eyes flash up, her body tensing, and her voice sounding so, so pleasured. He didn't know what which one he enjoyed more.

But as time unravels by and feelings change, the game soon wasn't a game anymore. She feels different now. As if she had a **chance **with him. She realized that he doesn't do this to every girl. Just her. She wonders why. He is the infamous womanizer. Collecting women's virginities was like his second nature to him. But now, it seems as if he only reserves himself for her. Was that a sign? Secondly, he's acting different. He's not the same petty teenager she met back years ago. He was this mature man who knew how to get what he wanted. And he always acts like he wants her.

Of course she would fall for him. What kind of girl **wouldn't**? He led her on; he acted as if he wanted her.

But he still doesn't love her.

"Why do you care?" she whispers a tad harshly. He was taken back. Why would he care? Did she really just ask that? He wants to yell at her, make her feel as guilty as he is feeling right now. But he doesn't. Instead, he presses her even closer to him. He hates it when she's unhappy. It's like his world slowly crumbles apart piece by piece while her heart breaks piece by piece. Either way, they're falling apart.

"Why shouldn't I care?" he replies back smoothly. His breath feels dangerously hot against her skin. It makes her shiver slightly. She pulls the covers against her whole entire body. She doesn't want to see him or hear him. They both know that. But he--as stubborn as he is--climbs under the covers to join her underneath. "Are you alight?" he asks, trying not to sound demanding. Though, he demands an answer right now.

She folds her arms across her bare chest and crosses her legs, embarrassed. She's embarrassed that his voice still makes her melt, that she still falls for his schemes, that she's naked in bed right now with him, that she's actually **in love **with him. She's embarrassed. She is not this type of girl. She always knew how to say no. So why not to him? What is so special about him? He is everything that is against what she believes in. **Abstinence. Purity. Waiting. **Yet he was able to change her mind in a second. She is so **mortified**.

"Hey, look at me," he says, tilting her chin. Their eyes met and a powerful spark ran across their bodies. His blue, blue eyes clashes with her brown, brown eyes, like land meets sea. He knows that he feels it. He just won't accept it. His body, heart, and soul know it, but his stupid egotistical brain doesn't. So he just ignores it, pretend that nothing happened. She on the other hand doesn't ignore it at all. Actually, it makes her feel even more embarrassed. She hates how much she loves him. She just hates it.

"What do you want?" she asks sourly. He frowns at her response. He didn't know what else he could say to make her feel better. So he did what he does best and kissed her. Right now, she doesn't know how to react. Slap him or kiss him back? That happens to be the question most of the time. When his hands start to roughly move against her skin, she knows that he wants her to shut up about this _love _thing. And it drives her mad. She's furious, past the point of anger.

She pulls away from him and looks at him disgustedly. "What was that for?!" she yells before grabbing a pillow and smacking him. She tries to hit him with all her might, but it's just a pillow. He easily takes it from her hands and throws it onto the floor before pinning her down against the bed. "You're such a conceited, shallow, unbearable jerk!" she screams at him while try to squirm out of this grasp.

"Well you're an immature, gullible, annoying diva!" he shoots back. He grips onto her tighter, making sure that she could not get away. He doesn't want her to leave. He wants her to still be with him, her body still tangled within his. He doesn't want to let her go, he won't. He hears her whimper gently, pain constricting her wrists. But he could see the pure rage in her dark eyes. If he lets go, he's dead.

Then it begins.

_Fine! Fine! Good! Good! So are we good? Oh, we're so good. _

And the cycle starts all over again.

b.

She's in his bathroom. She stares at herself in the mirror, her face is pale white and her legs and arms are numb. She is dressed in one of his shirts and his boxers. She feels so…**dirty**. She wants to take a shower, hoping that the hot water would wash away all of the impurity that covers her. As she was about to touch the shower curtain, a sickening feeling entered her body. She instantly heads over to the toilet and begins to barf.

"Sonny, are you okay?" he asks. "What was that?" She stares at the contents of her insides and flushes the toilet.

"I think it was the food I ate last night. I think it was spoiled." She says, rubbing her head. She notices that she's getting a headache, no a headache would be an understatement. A large pain is racking her head. She feels like she wants to scream. "Ow!" she wails, grasping onto her head. "Chad, help me!" she begs, trying to get up. The door immediately opens and he scoops her up into his arms, holding onto her tightly.

"What's wrong?" he asks frantically. She just continues to whimper and complain, not knowing what is wrong with her. The pain won't go away. "Sonny, what's wrong?" he demands, worries striking him. She grabs hold of the toilet again and barfs once more. Chad helps her up, treating her like fragile glass. "I think we should take you to the doctor." He says, confusion running into his head. He thinks he knows what's wrong with her…he just doesn't want to admit it.

"I'm **fine**. I think it was just the bad food." She insists. She now feels weak, incapable of moving her own two feet on her own. She holds onto his shoulders for support so she could regain her balance. She couldn't understand why she was wobbling around. All she did was barf.

"Ugh, fine." He says, annoyed that she won't let him help her. She doesn't reply back, which surprises him a lot. Instead she limps back to the bed, wanting to go to sleep, wanting the pain to go away.

c.

She is at the doctor's office, alone and not with him. Ever since that day, her vomiting increased and her headaches worsened. She wasn't able to handle it anymore. She just **had **to see the doctor now. After spilling out her problems, the doctor gives her a sad look.

"Are you late?"

That question could mean anything. Are you late for work? Are you late for an interview? Are you late for a movie premiere? But that's not what she means. _Are you late on your period?_ Is her question. She doesn't want to answer at first. She wants to yell and scream, threatening to sue her doctor for asking such private questions. But that is beyond the point of stupidity, more like completely **insane**.

"I…um…" she doesn't know what to say. It was quite **obvious **anyways. She's nerve wrecked, tired, and depressed. Shouldn't the answer be clear? Then she realized the outcome to all of this. That question was the spark to all of the other reasons. The barfing, the headaches, the sleepless nights. She stares at her doctor, close to the point of tears.

"Miss Monroe, are you late?" the doctor asks again.

"Yeah," she whispers.

And her world shatters.

d.

He doesn't know why she's ignoring him. She's not talking to him, making eye-contact, and hardly even noticing him. She's treating him like he's not even there. **That's not normal**. When he even acts sweet and nice to her, she pretends that no one is talking to her and moves along. It's driving him mad. He hates it. He wants her attention, he wants her eyes on his, he wants **her**.

"What is your deal?" he asks, harshly grabbing her shoulder. She whimpers and pushes him away. But he won't take no for an answer this time—or in this case, **no **answer. He pins her against the wall, just like the way he did the last time they saw each other, in his room, on his bed. "What is your deal, Sonny?" he repeats. She stares at him, her eyes covered with a coat of awaiting tears. He lets go of her, hoping that he didn't injure her. "Why are you ignoring me?" he actually sounds hurt, offended almost. (He wasn't one to be unnoticed anyways.)

"Chad, just leave me alone." She whispers, begging practically. She tries to push him away, but he won't let her, he won't allow it this time. He surprisingly wraps his arms around her, embracing her in a tight hug, shocking both of them. As if on cue, a group of paparazzo attack them, flashing their cameras on and off repeatedly, wanting to get every single shot of them in every possible view. This is the biggest scoop Hollywood's ever gonna get. But that doesn't concern him. He wants an answer from her and he wants one now.

"If you don't tell me what's going on, I'll seriously start having sex with you right now in front of all these people." he threatens secretly into her ear. She gasps and widens her eyes, staring straight into his intense eyes. He's serious. He's dead serious.

"I…I can't." she says desperately, sounding so vulnerable, so powerless. She looks at the paparazzo around them before burying her face in his neck, not wanting to be photographed. He could feel tears slip from her eyes and land on his skin. He knew that something was bad—no **worse**.

"Just tell me what's wrong." He whispers into her ear. She shakes her head stubbornly and her tears increase. He sighs and takes her into another room, away from the annoying paparazzo. Once he closes and locks the door behind him, he lays her on the couch and kneels in front of her. "Can you tell me what's wrong now?" he asks, rubbing her leg. She shakes her head again and chokes back a sob. "Dammit just tell me what's wrong!" he yells, completely fed up.

Before she could even shed another tear, she runs into the bathroom and barfs into the sink. Her tears mix in with the contents of her lunch as she turns the faucet on to wash it all away. He walks in and follows her, giving her a hard stare. Their eyes meet accidentally. She could tell that he knows by looking into his sky blue eyes. Just they way he knows what's really happening by looking into her earth toned orbs.

"So…did you go to the doctor recently?" he asks, almost casually. _He knows._ She thinks as paranoia rushes through her veins. He leans against the doorframe and folds his arms across his chest. He studies her whole entire body, trying to see the changes in her body, what was getting **bigger**. She just stands there, her body slightly trembling. _He knows_. She doesn't mutter a word, feeling too scared to say a thing, too scared of his reaction. He rolls his eyes and sighs. "Just say it." He says with annoyance in his voice.

"Say what?" she whispers. He glares at her, and she winces. He walks up to her and traces her front chest with his hand. He goes all the way down to her stomach and lightly presses on it. She lets out another whimper but immediately closes her mouth. He looks at her, half anger in his eyes, half concern, and releases his touch on her. She bites her lip, her eyes watering again.

"Say it." He orders again. There is no point of hiding now. All is revealed anyways. So what was her excuse? Should she deny it? Either way: there is **no point**. But she still doesn't want to say it. Those words, those life-ruining words, it was a statement that proved all of her sins to be true. A statement that proved all of the stupid rumors that whispers through Hollywood true.

"I'm…" she starts. She doesn't know if she could continue. She felt her throat closing and her lungs ignoring the air. She doesn't know if her legs to handle her weight anymore or if her eyes could handle more tears. **It was practically like death**. "I'm…I'm pregnant." She whispers. He continues to stare at her as she bursts out crying. She rushes into his arms again and grasps onto him tightly. He pulls her back and gives her a sincere look, but she could see through his eyes. He's scared too.

"We need to get rid of it." He says, not harshly, but actually kindly. She stares at him with wide eyes and frantically shakes her head no. "Sonny, listen to me! We need to get rid of it. This is going to ruin our careers forever. Neither of us could step foot out in Hollywood for the rest of our lives if you ever have this baby. We'll both get fired, and we'll never get signed into anything ever!"

"No, no, no! This is my **baby**! And **your child **too! And how am I supposed to get rid of him or her?! Abort it?! I don't think so, Chad! I am not doing abortions!" she screams, tears running down and down from her eyes. She can't believe that he would say things like that. Hearing that broke her heart even more than hearing that he doesn't love her.

"Yes, abort it! Sonny, you need to abort it! Think about what could happen to us!" he tries to reason with her. "You'll never get to do comedy again! You'll never get to do the thing you love the most! And all my hard work for all these years will end up destroyed if you keep this baby! This is for the **better**!"

"For the better?! Chad, this is for **you**! This is why I didn't even want to tell you in the first place! You're either going to ditch me, or you're going to make me have an abortion! Well if you're not going to help me with **our **child then I'm gone!" she says, turning around to reach for the door. He takes her hand with his and pulls her back.

He doesn't want her to go. If she goes, his world goes. A day without her is like a day without oxygen. He **needs **her. He needs her than more than anything in the world. He won't allow her to go. Why couldn't she see that he just wants **it **to go, **not her**! He desperately takes her back into his arms and holds onto her tightly. He won't allow her to leave. He doesn't **want **her to leave. And he always gets what he wants.

"You're not going anywhere." He says, not dangerously, but sadly. Desperation is stretched into his voice and she could clearly hear it. "I don't want you to leave me." He whispers. For a moment, she changes her mind. She loves him. Even if he is a lying scheming prick, she **really, really **loves him. She turns back to face him and stares into his eyes.

Their eyes clash. Brown meets blue, blue meets brown, and they battle out. _Fine! Fine! Good! Good! So are we good? Oh, we're so good. _They can hear it in the air. Who knew their lame comebacks had so much…meaning to them.

"Chad, do you love me?" she asks. This is his last chance. If he responds incorrectly this time…it's all **over**. At first he's dumbstruck by the question. He always knew that she would ask him this some day. He just wishes that it isn't now: the **worst **time ever. "Chad, do you love me?" she repeats. He cups her cheeks and looks genuinely into her eyes.

"I care about you." He states—and he's not lying there. Truth be said, she actually feels happy that he said that. He cares about her, he really does. (And this is coming from a jerk who cares only about himself.) But her blissful mood only lasts for about a second and a half once she realizes that he's escaping the question, making up alternative answers, **not telling the truth**.

"But do you love me?" she asks. Her voice is serious yet she sounds upset. She fears his answer; she fears his rejection one more time because this answer counted. The others were just tests out of curiosity. This is the **real deal**.

"No," he sighs. She nods her head solemnly and instantly rushes out the door, dodging the paparazzo. He wants to run after her and restate his answer. But his legs were cemented onto the ground because he couldn't move. He stares after her, feeling as if he just made the biggest mistake in his life, just said the biggest lie ever.

The statement: _you don't know what you got 'til it's gone _had to be the only thing running through his mind as the paparazzo shot nosy questions at him, wondering what he did to make her run away like that. He didn't know what he had until it was gone. Now that she's gone…now he realizes that he actually **does love **her.

"Ugh, I'm such an idiot!" he whines, slamming the door on the paparazzo's faces. He slides down the door and glares at what's ahead of him, anger and guilt colliding in his head. "What did I just do?" he whispers as tears begin to collect from his eyes. "I should have just said that I do love her." He groans into his hands. "Chad Dylan Cooper, you are an **idiot**."

e.

"What is this?!" Tawni demands, throwing a magazine in front of his face. "I demand an answer to this bull!" she screams, giving him a dangerous look. He actually thinks that she's going to murder him on the spot. "Well don't just look at me! Look at **this**!" she says, shoving the magazine into his hands. He reads the article that stood printed against the thin pieces of paper.

_Sonny Monroe—missing? What happened to our favorite character off of _So Random_? She was last seen after rushing out of Condor Studios, completely bawling her eyes out. She was reportedly talking to Chad Dylan Cooper, _Mackenzie Falls_'s main character last. For a while, those two have been getting closer to each other. Stealing glances, smiling each other from across the room, you name it! They've even been photographed disheveled after exciting each others' dressing room in Condor Studios. We all thought that this was the next power couple—until we were proved wrong. We all expected romance from these two, not a waterfall of tears and a missing person report._

He gaped at the words in front of him, his heart racing and sweat droplets increasing against his skin. Where was she? Did someone **literally** file in a missing person report? What the heck was going on? "I have no idea about this." He says sincerely to the angry Tawni Hart. She squints at him and pokes him hard into the chest.

"Well you **better **not be the reason why she's gone. Her phone number's been changed, she and her mom moved, and we've lost all contact with her. If I **ever **find out that she's gone because of you, I'll personally kill you in your sleep, Cooper!" she warns before walking out. He watches Tawni leave his presence. She stops before she exits through the door. She stares down at the article in her hands and lets out a small sob. "Where are you, Sonny?" she whispers before running out, wiping her eyes.

He sinks down into his chair, wondering what he has done. He can't believe himself. Because of what he said…she's gone. She'll never come back and he'll never see her again. No more blissful nights, kissing her, holding her firmly in his arms. Those were now all memories that will never repeat itself.

Just because he said that he didn't love her.

g.

The years have been good to him. Contract after contract, million after million, he was pure gold. He was now rightly considered as one of the best actors in his generation. Every movie he starred in ended up being a huge box office hit, a world-wide phenomenon. He was someone that no one will ever forget. He was **the** **best of the best**. No one could compare to him, and no one can bring him down.

But all knows that stars have to take a break sometimes, right? So right now, he's sitting at the nearest coffee shop with a believable disguise, sipping his cup of coffee while reading the daily newspaper. All is quiet, all is peaceful, just the way he likes it.

The door bursts open and a small girl rushes in followed by her mother. "Mommy, mommy, I wanna cookie!" she squeaks, pointing at the freshly baked cookies that stood behind the glass counter. The little girl runs up to it and presses her face against the glass, eyeing the delicious cookies with wanting in her eyes. Her mother picks her up and carries her over to the register.

"Claire, I told you: no sweets until you had your dinner. It's going to spoil your appetite." Her mother giggles, poking her daughter's nose. Claire giggles back and sticks her tongue out at her mother. Then she looks behind her mother's back to see him staring at them. Claire smiles at him. He just blinks behind his sunglasses, a bit shocked.

"Hey, sunshine, the usual?" the lady behind the counter asks. The woman nods her head and smiles. Her smile instantly fades away once Claire jumps out of her arms and rushes over to him. She peers over the table and stares at him, giving him a weird look. He stares back, not knowing whether to walk away or call her mother.

"Hey, you're that guy from TV mommy never lets me see! Mommy, it's—"

"Claire Diane Cooper, get over here this instant!" her mother screeches, running over to her. "I am so sorry, sir." She apologizes before taking Claire back into her arms. He stands up, wanting to follow her. What did she just call her daughter? Claire Diane **Cooper**. CDC. Chad Dylan Cooper. This is more than a coincidence.

"Here's your order, Sonny." The lady says. The woman smiles at her and thanks her before walking out with her cup of coffee. Claire kept her gaze on him as long as possible. Once that door closed behind them, he runs out of the coffee shop, hoping that he'll catch up to the two.

Sadly, they're gone. Like they vanished out of thin air.

He groans, frustrated. He looks up at the sky and tries with all his might to remember that little girl who noticed that he was Chad Dylan Cooper. She had adorable golden blonde hair that beautifully fell around her shoulders. She was about four or five, giggly and perky like. So much like her mother…But what he noticed the most were her eyes. Those brown, brown eyes. When their eyes met, it was like a struck of lightning hit him. He has seen those eyes before, he just knows it. Her brown, brown eyes and his blue, blue eyes.

Chad's eyes meeting Sonny's.


End file.
